


Locked Door

by OewmO



Series: Doors [3]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Depression, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Persona 5 Protagonist, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:14:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26070037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OewmO/pseuds/OewmO
Summary: A sequel to the previous work in this series,DoorsThe bad ending, for everyone who’s just here for the sadness of it all.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist, But only mildly - Relationship
Series: Doors [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1892554
Kudos: 23





	Locked Door

**Author's Note:**

> Check the first work in the series! Context is needed to understand what’s going on in this work :)

After the events of that night, Akira didn’t reply to Akechi’s texts as much. They didn’t schedule as many hang outs. They didn’t meet him in their attic as much. Slowly, a divide was created. Akira hadn’t meant to cause it, the gap that formed between them and Akechi. They were just... scared. Scared to face him, now that he knew what they did. He saw the worst part of Akira. The undesirable. He knew what Akira never wanted anyone to know. And that scared them. Enough to stay away. 

Instead of late nights spent next to Akechi in their bed, Akira spent more time on that hardwood floor in the bathroom. It was pathetic, really. The things that ultimately drove Akechi away was what Akira kept coming back to while wishing Akechi would come back. They were just digging their grave deeper. 

Akira didn’t know what to do with themself anymore. They felt lost. Nothing felt as okay anymore. Akechi was their saving grace for so long. He wasn’t there for that any longer. He was hardly there at all. 

Akira wasn’t suddenly isolated or anything. They saw their friends all the time. Talked with others plenty. But they felt more alone than they ever had before. More alone than that first day in Tokyo, with no one to talk to. Because back then, Akira was used to that. They had lived half their life like that. But they had gotten used to company. Become comfortable with a group around them. They no longer felt as functional with no one there. 

What even were they when no one was around? Akira was nothing but what others made them. A hunk of clay that molded to the specific needs of whoever they were with that day. When they were with no one, they were shapeless. Akira feared they no longer knew who they were anymore. No true identity. No personality to speak of. Just a mirror. Nothing. 

Thoughts like these increased. They popped into Akira’s head much more often. More forceful. Alone behind a closed and locked door, Akira could do nothing but curl into a ball and desperately try to ignore the intrusive thoughts that plagued them. The urges. The self deprecation. The hurt. 

Akira didn’t want to be bitter towards their friends for not knowing. For not doing anything. It wasn’t the thieves’ fault. Akira hid it behind false confidence. How were they supposed to know? It was unfair to expect that from them. 

Bitterness toward Akechi was harder to quell. He had said such awful things, after all the time and devotion Akira gave him. The patience and understanding. The love. No. It wasn’t fair for Akira to be upset over this. This was how Akechi was. Unfiltered. Spiteful. It wasn’t right to be upset at such inherent pieces of Akechi’s true self. 

They were being selfish. Yet again. Trying to blame their hurt and pain on anyone but themself. It was their own fault. They refused to say anything. To ask for help. To simply tell Akechi what he said was out of hand. It was the fault of no one but Akira. 

Because Akechi was right, ultimately. They were pathetic. They sat and pitied themself as if their life was such tragedy. It was practically an insult to everyone around them, who had experienced so much worse. 

They were being dramatic. Easily damaged. What they were feeling was not worth the things they did to themself. And yet they kept doing it anyways.

Nothing else made Akira feel better anymore. Nothing else could give them the sense of relief more lines on their arm could. There was no longer any sense of safety in their attic room, lying with someone who despised them. Akira was lost in a trap of their own self destruction. Falling down a pit with no end. They hurt themself because Goro left them. Goro left them because they hurt themself. 

Akira felt completely and utterly lost. Adrift for now until forever. They didn’t know what to hold onto anymore. Was there anything to hold onto anymore?

People relied on them, yes. But they had been running out of gifts for a long time now. They were running on empty these days. It was best people stopped that reliance. They would receive no more. Akira could not give anymore. All of their transactional relationships with the people around them felt meaningless, now that their use had expired. Everyone was likely waiting for an excuse to leave. They were all completely in the right to do so. The transaction was over now. 

It was all over now. There was nothing left to give, and so there was nothing left of Akira. They were only a mirror made to reflect the needs of other. They were nothing else. 

Maybe Akira was just a one use object. Maybe they were used up now. Maybe it was time to throw them away. 

—

Akira sits on the hardwood floor behind the locked door of the bathroom one last time. Except this time, the door is not locked. It is closed, but not locked. There is no use for that anymore. There is nothing left for people to not see. There is no longer a point in sparing people the knowledge of how much it hurts. 

In truth, it hurts a whole lot. It burns like coal at the moment. It is an ache that has always been there, growing stronger by the day. 

There is a sense of relief in not having to lock the door this time. A sense of freedom in knowing they no longer have to shove it all down. It is all finished now. 

Akira closes their eyes. Tonight they will not get back up and wash themself off. Tonight they will just sit there and fall asleep. There is an empty bottle of pills lying on the ground. 

Transaction complete. 

—

Akechi stands in front of a fresh plot of dirt. Behind that plot of dirt is a new slab of stone. That stone reads:

Akira Kurusu  
2002 - 2020

He is filled with many emotions. He can name none of them. Everyone else has already left. They are now sitting together in Leblanc cheering each other up, probably. Akechi has always felt envy at their tight little group and the positivity they seemed to radiate. 

Too bad some of that positivity had turned out to be false. An act. It turned out Akira was not happy. It turned out they were actually slipping away, all that time. It made Akechi wonder who else there was not actually happy. If this could happen to Akira, it could happen to any of them. Akira had been the brightest. The confident and reliable leader. Now they were nothing. Now they were in a box in the dirt. 

Sometimes, he wonders if he should feel guilty. If he should feel some responsibility for how Akira met their end. Sometimes, he does. Sometimes he sits there and blames himself because he knew and he did nothing. Perhaps he had more responsibility than anyone else to do something. For some reason far beyond his comprehending, Akira let their mask slip around him more than anyone else. Akira had never reached out, but they had let Akechi know things no one else did. 

Maybe that was their way of reaching out. Asking for help indirectly, because they did not know how to truly do so. Or wouldn’t let themself truly do so. Akechi did not know. Akechi would never know. 

The news had only slightly shocked Akechi. Less than the rest of them. He had known that Akira was not happy much sooner. He had known they coped by hurting themself. He had known they were only declining, only losing themself more, isolating, hiding away, crying in their sleep. Akechi had watched all of that. Akechi had caused some of that. 

As Akechi looks at the grave, he wonders if he ever truly knew anything. If he ever knew Akira, or just what Akira pretended to be. He is comforted in the thought that, at least, he knew a little bit more of Akira than anyone else did. Perhaps that is selfish. He turns even this into a competition that he is winning. He uses even this as proof enough to fuel possessiveness over someone who is not even alive anymore. 

That was forever the fatal difference between him and the person he may have loved. Akira was not selfish.

**Author's Note:**

> This had been a fun series to write! The first part in the series will probably make a good set up for how I interpret a lot of Akira for any future works in this fandom. The little sequels were just for self indulgent fun. Writing this made me a little sad, so I hope it makes you sad too! :)
> 
> If you want to cheer up after all of this, check out the series to read the alternate sequel with a happy ending!


End file.
